Fireworks at Stalag 13
by Throughtherye
Summary: It's the Fourth of July at Stalag 13, Carter's favorite holiday, and the prisoners plan on celebrating with a bang.


**So this is my first Hogans fanfic. I found it took me a while to think up the plot, since I had to make sure it was a plan worthy of Colonel Hogan and his men. Thankfully, I figured out what I wanted to write, so here you go! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hogan's Heroes**

**Fireworks at Stalag 13**

The men milled about the barracks, staying in the shade of the buildings to escape the hot afternoon sun. They had attempted to play baseball earlier, but they gave up when the sweat made their clothes stick to their bodies. The guards had retreated to the guardhouses, setting their rifles aside and shedding their heavy coats. Colonel Klink had locked himself in his office after the morning roll call, and could be seen through the window vigorously fanning himself with a stack of papers.

Carter busied himself with the laundry, his back against one of the barrack walls. He whistled as he worked, the slopping water doing nothing to cool at least his hands. Newkirk walked up to him and settled down on the ground, holding a cigarette in one hand and shrugging his old jacket off of his shoulders.

"Bloody heat wave," the Englishman sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Don't think I'll be able to survive one more day," He drawled, scowling his displeasure at the beaming sun. He turned towards Carter, who was wringing out one of his shirts. "What're you doin' there, Andrew? Bloody laundry on a day like this?"

"Well, I wanted all my clothes cleaned for the holiday. Boy, I can't wait," Carter scrubbed his socks harder, and smiled good-naturedly.

"What are you on about, Carter?" Newkirk said, glancing up at the young man with a bewildered look on his face. "What holiday?"

"The Fourth of July, for Pete's sake! Don't you celebrate it in England?" Carter paused in his washing, astounded that some one didn't know about the impending celebration.

"Yes, Carter, we Englishmen celebrate the Independence of America," Newkirk rolled his eyes at Carter's naivety. The two men looked up as a shadow passed over them. "Colonel Hogan," Newkirk grinned up at the man.

"Carter, Newkirk," Hogan nodded at the two men. "I was wondering whether you two could join us inside for some afternoon coffee?"

"Coffee, when it's this hot outside? Boy, I'll pass on that, Colonel," Carter resumed his washing only to receive a sharp punch on the shoulder from Newkirk. Carter jumped and put his hand over his shoulder. "What was that for, Newkirk?" He earned another punch, and then he understood. Hogan chuckled as Carter rubbed his shoulder.

"Come on then, Carter," Newkirk nodded after the Colonel as they walked back into the barracks, which were only minutely cooler than the outside. They walked into Hogan's room, where Kinch sat at the table, setting up the coffeepot that was tapped into Klink's office. LeBeau was lounging on the bench, and sat up quickly when the Colonel entered.

"_Mon Colonel,"_ The French Corporal greeted him, scooting closer to the coffeepot. "A Gestapo officer just entered Klink's office."

"Let's see what's going on, then," Hogan said as they crowded around the little coffeepot on the table.

"Major," Klink's reedy voice came from the coffeepot. "This camp is not a resting spot for Gestapo officers! I must call General Burkhalter to protest your request." A high voice responded to the Kommandant.

"Colonel Klink, this is not a request. It is an order, from the General himself!" the Gestapo officer said. "And if you do not cooperate, I shall have you shot, court marshaled, and sent to the Russian Front!" Klink backtracked immediately.

"But of course, Major, Stalag 13 always welcomes Gestapo officers. Our camp is your camp. We will give you and your men the best accommodations in all of Germany! And the map of the secret munitions factories will be perfectly secure in my safe," Klink rambled on.

"Quite, you fool!" the Gestapo Major hissed. "Do you want the whole camp to hear?" Hogan raised his eyebrows and exchanged looks with the others.

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry Major. But, you know, my office is the safest place in the camp. No one can get in here without my knowing about it, no one!" There was a bang as the door opened, and another voice was in the room.

"Herr Kommandant, your car is ready from the motor pool!" Sergeant Schultz's voice boomed.

"Shultz!" Klink cried. "Why don't you knock, you dummkopf!" There was a thump, and Hogan was sure Klink had just stamped his foot.

"I am sorry, Herr Kommandant," Schultz replied. "I did not know you had company."

"A secure office, eh, Klink? Why, your guards don't even know when a Gestapo officer is in the camp! I expect tighter security when my men and my documents are here, Klink! The Gestapo man exclaimed.

"Of course, Major, of course, I will double the guards outside the gate throughout your stay at Stalag 13, and I will post Schultz outside of my office to guard the safe while I am gone!" The door opened once more, and the Gestapo Major said something before leaving that the coffeepot didn't pick up. Klink responded resignedly. "Oh, yes, Heil Hitler." The door shut with a click. Kinch disconnected the coffeepot and Hogan looked at everyone in the room.

"Well, men. It seems like we have a job for our friendly neighborhood thief." Hogan grinned as the others looked towards the Englander.

"It would be my pleasure, sir," Newkirk smiled, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

**Like it? Review!**


End file.
